


Little purple blooms

by chaoticlivi



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Nipple Licking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi
Summary: “I…thanks?” he tries in the universe’s most delayed response of all time.





	

They’re on their way back to the hotel when he hears a voice mutter from the shadows, “Fuckin’ Shibusen police.”

Soul chooses not to say anything and throws Maka a warning look, hoping she will not perpetuate an argument. She raises her eyebrows, but walks proudly past the stranger by the garbage cans. While Shibusen is regarded as a generally positive force for order among the human population these days, there have always been thugs who want to score macho points by shit-talking its agents to their faces.

“Bet you can’t even use that blade to fight,” the voice continues, louder this time, determined to be heard. “Bet people better than you show up for the real fights, then you sit around and jerk off your keyboard afterward and get called a big man.”

Soul avoids clenching his teeth; he doesn’t want the set of his jaw to betray his irritation as he turns to face their antagonist. “Yeah? You wanna find that out first-hand?”

The man scowls. There is no upper limit to this meat-headed stupidity.

As though doing a demonstration for a crowd of curious kids instead of a jacked-up thug, Soul lazily swings his arm forward and extends the piano scythe from it. The blade, bone-white and wickedly curved, juts from his flesh until it’s longer than the rest of his arm.

Soul’s audience is already beating an admirably casual retreat around the corner.

Maka gives him a look he isn’t quite used to. “What?” he asks. “You know I wasn’t gonna–”

Her inscrutable expression breaks into flushed mirth. “I know, I know,” she says. “I think it’s funny when you do that and everyone’s suddenly afraid of you, that’s all.”

Her face hadn’t _looked_ like she thought it was funny… “It’s a good way to call their bluff.” Soul shrugs. “Guys like him don’t understand reasoning. Better to scare the crap out of him now than have him thinking he’s unbeatable until he gets beaten for real, right?”

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do if someone actually tries to fight us?”

The blade vanishes, and Soul is once again a regular person. “I dunno. Just keep kicking and outmaneuvering them until they get the message? What would you do?”

Maka muses. “Knock them out, probably.”

He snorts. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It’s an easy, enjoyable kind of banter, a holdover from younger days but with a more relaxed air. He’s sure she knows exactly what he means, and she’s not even remotely offended.

They’re on their way through the hotel lobby now, a cheery place with awkwardly-arranged furniture. “Oh, you never take any shit from anyone, Maka,” Soul elaborates.

She nudges him with her shoulder. “I don’t know. I listen to things you say, don’t I?”

“Ouch.” He bumps her in return.

In the elevator, she sidles up close, lowers her voice, and confides as though it’s the most conspiratorial thing she’s ever said, “I like it when you scare people.”

Ah. There’s her inner Death Child.

Not sure how to respond, or whether she really intends to sound as flirtatious as it seems she does, Soul is left stuttering, mouth open. The elevator has opened and Maka ducks out right away. For a second, it seems she’s almost fleeing, but when she reaches the door of their room, she looks back for him, cheeks pink.

His temperature rises. There it is, the hit-and-run flirtation that’s so characteristic of Maka. They have, strictly speaking, admitted that there are _feelings_ involved between them, but that part of the relationship is so brand-new and slow-moving that every development still feels like a new confession. Soul’s heart is in his throat, pulse echoing in his ears.

Their quiet as they cross the threshold of the door is not characteristic of their usual amicable silence. Soul is not sure what’s going on with Maka, but for him, desires that have been simmering under the surface of his skin are finally becoming too hot and too loud to ignore, brought out by Maka’s odd compliment.

“I…thanks?” he tries in the universe’s most delayed response of all time. It breaks the tension, though, giving her something to chuckle at.

While she’s laughing, Soul takes his chances and leans toward her, hand feather light on her back, touching her just enough to hint that he wants to hold her. His face is inches from hers. She sobers. Heat radiates between them.

“Can I…?” he asks softly.

“Please,” she answers.

The taste of Maka’s kiss, heat and honey, makes his head spin. He pulls back, overwhelmed and euphoric, only to have Maka wrap her arms around him.

It does not take them long to make it to the bed and hold each other face-to-face, playful kisses filling with lust. She touches him, raising her eyebrows in a request for permission while her hands gravitate toward his ass. He laughs.

She lets him touch her rear, too. And her chest. Oh, gods, her chest, with those graceful little curves. He is especially careful with the way he touches her there, since he has a history of teasing about it. They were comments made out of suppressed affection, but he already knows they bothered her.

So if she doesn’t mind - if it’s good for her, like he knows it is for _some_ people, anyway - he’ll show her how he really feels. Maka is entirely enthusiastic about playing along, giving him a smug smirk through her blush as he kisses her through her shirt. Eventually, she figures out his true goal and removes it altogether.

“You sure are spending a lot of time there for someone who doesn’t like small women,” she observes. She’s rolled onto her back, so he can focus.

He pauses and looks up, abashed. “I was bullshitting you and it was stupid,” he admits.

She smiles. “I thought so. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

Soul starts with tiny kisses, peppered lightly along the skin of her chest. He looks up at Maka, hoping for some indication of what will bring her the most pleasure, and is met with an encouraging pink smile.

He goes back to work, opening his kisses up to something heavier and wetter. She puts her hands in his hair, stroking her fingers through with one while holding his head with the other, as he licks her tits.

He loves every inch of her. But this moment is specifically for her beautiful little breasts, so warm and soft.

“Wow,” Maka breathes. “You should…use your teeth.”

Her whisper sends a shudder up his spine and down between his legs. Soul can’t help his open-mouthed stare, mid-lick, as she hastily adds, “I mean– if you want!”

Oh, he _does_ want, in one way. He’d love to mark her skin with pleasure for once, draw over the scars left by battle. But he also isn’t sure he wants to interfere with what’s already on her body, as perfect as it is, scars and all. Besides, what if it hurts?

Soul decides to take the cautious approach, lingering on a nipple with the tip of his tongue before scraping his teeth up the curve of her breast.

“Mmm _hmm_.” Maka hums and sighs, like willow branches in a sultry breeze. “Soul… _please_ keep going.”

And, well, he can’t deny her that - not when it gets her all breathy and sensitive like this. He scrapes and nibbles to her satisfaction: just hard enough to leave little purple blooms in the wake of his teeth.

She’s got one leg propped on the bed and the other hooked around his midsection, and with each pass of his tongue, she pushes her hips up against his body. If only that motion would move a bit lower…

Soul channels his desire to the task at hand instead, his bites becoming wider when he moves to her other breast, tongue laving harder around her nipple. He focuses on her voice, on the surprised pleasure he thinks he can hear when she hums approvingly, the cute swells and dips in her moans. Undignified though it is, he allows himself some strained friction against the bed for some temporary relief.

Maka reads his mind, apparently, because she grabs his shoulders and urges him back to her lips. In doing this, she gives him the pelvic embrace he’d been looking for.

“I didn’t know I was going to like that until you did it,” she murmurs, her mouth back on his. “Let’s do it again soon, right?”

Yes, please. He slants his mouth over hers and groans his enthusiasm.

Fuck. _Fuck_. That’s the right spot there. Her thrusts, growing more and more impatient with every second, rub his excited cock through his pants.

It’s enough until it’s not.

Soul draws back from the kiss and places his forehead against Maka’s, an attempt to reassure her that he isn’t stopping for negative reasons and also to restrain himself from just kissing her again forever instead of talking this out.

“How far do you wanna go?” he asks.

“How far do _you_ want to go?” Maka echoes.

“I want all these clothes out of the way.” Soul takes her hand to intertwine their fingers. When he’s concentrating, the touch of skin on skin tickles and thrills. “I’m so turned on…I could go all the way with you.”

“Let’s do it,” she says. He shifts his face to look at her and there’s fire in her eyes, the familiar determined set to her jaw. “I’m ready. And we’re safe. Been on the pill for a year now.”

Soul nods, free of that particular anxiety, the excitement flooding his veins anew.

He kisses her again as she moves her hand between his legs to cup him. His sheer _hardness_ could be a little embarrassing had she not, the moment her hand surrounded him, sighed with the same gusty pleasure she uses when she’s finally had a chance to return to a favorite book after a long day of work. He pauses, eyes closed for longer than a blink; it would be so easy to let her just keep working him through his pants. He’s not about to get off alone, though, so he slips a cautious hand under her skirt.

She’s wet as fuck. Hot, soft, and heart-stoppingly wet.

“Mmmmmaka,” he murmurs, rubbing her panties while they kiss. He wonders what she tastes like down there, and makes a mental note to find out sooner than later.

The rest of their clothes come off all at once; he’s so taken with watching her that he doesn’t even remember how he got naked. Soul tries not to stare too intensely, but she’s _beyond hotness_ , sex-flushed and welcoming. When her eyes change a little from hazy to questioning, he flashes her a grin and kisses the hickies on her tits.

Missionary seems like the simplest position and the quickest way for Soul to adore his stunning partner with his body instead of just his eyes, so they adopt it now, Soul poised to slide inside. He’s struck once again with the fact that he’s not sure how long he can last.

He’s nervous about something else, too, something more important: what if it hurts her? They can always get better at sex if it’s over too soon, but it’s not supposed to hurt.

Maka quashes that anxiety almost immediately, meeting his hesitant push inward with a greedy push of her own, taking him in fully. Her legs, wrapped around his hips, pull her up to him hard.

She takes him deep, so fucking goddamn deep his balls are pressing against her entrance. And again. And again. And again.

It’s a whole new kind of feeling wanted. Her gasps keep him thrusting into her hips, even when he’s riding the edge of an orgasm, because she sounds close, too; the fantasy of taking her with him over the edge has become a need. In the back of his mind, it occurs to him that their hard-won resonance might have something to do with their mutual pleasure. He swears and tells her she’s incredible when he needs something else to focus on, breathes hard with exertion the whole time, but mostly listens for each detail in her blissful noises. _So close, Soul, I’m so close…_

It’s the moment when she throbs around him and her whispers coalesce into an all-out moan that he can’t hold back any longer. He spills, finally, all that built-up pleasure seeping into her.

Soul waits for his high to roll over him completely, panting along with Maka for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing were she not just as spent as he.

They collapse next to each other, then, for some unknowable amount of time, motivated to move only by the need to get cleaned up.

“How long has it been like that for you?” Maka asks later, when they lie facing each other again, considerably less frenzied this time.

His pleasure-addled brain mulls over her words for a minute, trying to figure out what she means, and decides she’s asking how long he’s wanted to have sex with her. “It’s hard to tell. It’s been years now, but I couldn’t tell you when it started. Seems like forever.”

She nods and snuggles up under his chin. “I can’t tell exactly when it started for me, either. But I’m glad it did.”

Soul turns over the day’s events in his head and a memory suddenly stands out to him.

“So hang on.” He wants to ask this before they drift off to sleep, which is imminent. “You like it when I scare people?”

“Well, you know…the idea that you look dangerous, but I know what a good person you really are. It just reminds me of everything about you and everything we’ve done together. And it kind of feels like our secret that I know all about you, I guess.”

Ah, yes. And now there’s something else they’ve done together.

“Plus, I’m a Death Child. We love danger.”

“Yup. There it is.” He snorts. “Sorry you partnered with a music nerd instead.”

“Didn’t you even listen?” Her voice is muffled as she whines into his chest. “I said–”

“I know, Maka. Thank you. I like it when you scare people, too.”

“Really?”

“As long as it’s not when we’re trying to sell them our stuff.”


End file.
